


Just A Slip

by iwillrunforever



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluffy, Injury, Shower Sex, Smut, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23881873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillrunforever/pseuds/iwillrunforever
Summary: You, the Master, and a shower. What could go wrong?
Relationships: The Master (Dhawan)/Reader, The Master (Doctor Who)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	Just A Slip

As soon as you were past the doors of the TARDIS you fell to the ground in pain. You heard the doors slam shut and the Master quickly took off, setting the machine into autopilot before dashing over to where you had crumpled.  
“Let me see.” He ordered. You tried to lift yourself but your right arm collapsed under you from the pain. His hands raised you gently and set you against the railing.   
“Arm. And leg.” You groaned as he pulled your jacket off. Burns wound their way up your arm and leg, the singed fabric clinging to the injuries.   
“Come on.” The Master lifted you into his arms gently, letting you hold onto him as he carried you to the med bay and laid you onto the soft bed. “This is why you run in front.”   
“You’re really telling me off now?” You hissed as he began to clean the wounds on your leg.   
“When else am I going to do it?” He chuckled. You rolled your eyes at him but grinned anyway, despite the pain lancing through you. “Now, this is going to hurt.”  
“I’m very aware of that.”  
“Just thought I’d warn you.”

*

It had been a week since you were slightly blown up. The wounds were healing nicely, but you still couldn’t walk more than a few steps, and you couldn’t raise your right arm higher than your shoulder. And worst of all - you hadn’t had a shower since the day before the incident. You felt gross, your hair was greasy, your skin grimy and oily. But you would need help. And asking the Master to help you shower… well, that was a whole thing. But you knew you couldn’t put it off any longer. You would need to just get over it.

The next time he came into your room you braced yourself for the embarrassment.  
“I need a shower.” The words blurted out of your mouth abruptly. The Master barely reacted, almost confused.   
“Okay?” You raised your eyebrows at him, hoping that you wouldn’t need to explain further for him to understand. “And?”  
You groaned. “I… I need help.”  
“Oh.” For the first time since you had known him, the Master looked almost bashful, a slight blush tinging his cheeks as he stammered. “ _Oh._ ”  
“Yup.”  
“Okay.” He looked around the room. He seemed nervous. “Right now?”  
“If that’s okay?”  
“Of course.” He helped you up from the bed and you leant your weight on him. He guided you down the corridor into a bathroom and sat you down on the closed toilet. You watched him turn the shower on and gather towels, checking the temperature of the water before turning to you, still awkward. “Are you…? Do you need…?” You chuckled at him, if only to disguise your own awkwardness as you stood.   
“I can’t exactly have a shower with my clothes on.”  
“I suppose not.”  
“Is that alright?”  
“Yes, obviously.” You nodded and began to take off the loose t-shirt and leggings you had been wearing. You did your best cover yourself with your arms, embarrassed, but the Master kept his eyes steadily on your face. He offered you his hand, which you took, and he helped you step into the shower, a sigh escaping your lips as the warm water hit your body. Even after only a few seconds, you already felt cleaner. You propped yourself up against the wall as the Master stepped away for a second to take off his jacket and roll up his sleeves. You ran your good hand through your hair to untangle it. “Let me know… let me know if you’re alright, yeah?” It was endearing to see the Master so nervous. It almost made you relax in some way, the reassurance that he wouldn’t make fun of you or tease you or take advantage of you.  
“Yeah.”

He picked up the bottle of shower gel and squirted it into a sponge. He worked it into a lather and began to run it over your skin gently. The tension in the air was tangible. Every breath was almost a gasp. You could tell he was being careful, as he played close attention to your back and arms, avoiding anywhere even close to your chest or stomach. It was sweet of him, very out of character, but also slightly infuriating. For months you had harboured a more than slight crush on the time lord, and this whole situation was doing nothing to help. But he wouldn’t do anything.

At least, not on purpose. You turned slightly, just to prop yourself up against the wall a bit more comfortably, and in doing so the Master’s hand slipped, brushing against your nipple. You gasped at the unexpected sensation and he froze, refusing to look you in the eye, instead staring at the wall, a flush rising to your cheeks.  
“I- I’m sor-”  
“It’s okay,” You interrupted. This was your only chance. You would never have the courage again. You had to let him know how you felt about him. His eyes locked with yours, dark and dangerous. With a swift step, he was with you under the water, seeming not to care about how his clothes were immediately soaked and clinging to his skin, and pushing you against the wall. His lips were on your neck in an instant, kissing and biting and sucking marks that wouldn’t fade for weeks and drawing moans from you easily. His hands were tight on your hips, holding you still under his touch. You lifted one arm to grip his hair, your injured one holding his elbow to keep him as close to you as possible. He didn’t let up but started to move down your body. He captured one nipple, his tongue swirling around it and teasing it into a stiff peak while he attended to the other with his hand. You couldn’t control the gasps and whines that poured out of you or the way you were rubbing your thighs together just for an ounce of friction.

He noticed.

Before you could do anything he was on his knees, lifting your hurt leg over his shoulder and practically attacking your clit. You almost screamed at the sensation, at the pure pleasure running through your body. It was overwhelming. One of his hands laced with yours, a sweet gesture amongst the heat and passion, and the other… The other came up between your legs and he began thrusting two fingers inside of you, curling them perfectly. Your legs were shaking. If it weren’t for him holding you up, you would have collapsed to the ground in a puddle.   
“Master...” His name was like honey on your lips. The sound of it made him growl and only encouraged his actions. You could feel yourself approaching the edge at a rapid pace. “I’m gonna…”  
“Come for your Master.” The words were muffled but they didn’t fail in making you cry out as your orgasm practically tore through your body. His fingers and lips kept moving, guiding you through the tremors and electricity in your veins. Your chest heaved and you dropped your head back against the wall, unable to think of anything. He kissed his way back up your body, now gentle and caring, before pressing his lips against yours. You could taste yourself on his lips, but you didn’t care.

“Thank you,” You sighed.   
“The pleasure’s all mine,” He laughed at his joke. You looked him up and down, taking in his ruined clothes, and he followed your gaze, grinning almost sheepishly.  
“You should probably get those off,” You grinned.  
“Absolutely.” Your fingers immediately flew to his shirt collar as you kissed him again.


End file.
